Chapter Text
Derek was startled awake by what sounded like gunfire. His jump jostled Stiles, who was asleep and curled up against him. The boy frowned and hummed into Derek’s chest.
“Just fireworks,” he said quietly.
Fireworks, right. Derek looked at the clock. It was just after midnight.
“Your heart is pounding,” Stiles said, bringing his hand up to brush where his cheek had just been.
“Yeah–” Derek coughed a bit to clear his throat. “Sorry for waking you.”
“Don’t ‘pologize,” Stiles said, eyes still closed. “Happy New Year.”
As if in response, another round of fireworks was set off. Derek had seen them launched from the pier before. He could almost hear the shouts of the too-drunk population celebrating and smell the air filled with the sweet scent of fizzing champagne. What a contrast, he thought, to be in this quiet room, pressed against the body of the only boy he thinks he’s ever truly been in love with. It wasn’t shocking to realize that he didn’t even miss the festivities, the drunken bar, the buzz of energy. This was plenty.
“Happy New Year.” He whispered back. Then, “Why don’t we go to your bed?” Derek’s arm was entirely asleep under Stiles' body and he was already cramping up from their position on the couch.
Stiles smiled, eyes still closed. Derek could feel it against his ribs. “Trying to get lucky in the new year?” Stiles asked.
Derek let out a startled laugh. “No, you menace. I thought it would be comfier.”
Stiles hummed again. “Mmm, fine. Carry me?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “You’re perfectly capable of walking.”
“Yeah, but I want you to carry me.” Stiles' voice held the edge of finality to it, so it wasn’t really shocking that Derek only lasted five seconds before saying, “Ugh, fine.”
Stiles laughed brightly, no doubt pleased at how easily Derek had folded. Derek ignored it and stood up, stretching a bit before he bent down to scoop up the brunette and carry him to his room. Stiles wrapped his arms tightly around Derek’s neck, his smile staying as Derek traversed the darkened house. He made his way to the back before dropping the boy unceremoniously on his bed, sparking an indignant “hey!” from the latter. Derek smiled, but ignored him, choosing to crawl onto what he now deemed “his side”. Stiles opened his eyes finally to watch Derek get settled, his head resting on his own arm.
“What are you staring at?” Derek finally said, self-conscious of the deep gaze.
“You.”
“Well, yeah, but why?”
Stiles scoffed. “Am I not allowed to look?”
You’re allowed anything. He thought. No, that was too much. Derek shrugged and offered up, “I guess you are.”
Stiles continued studying him, but now Derek stared back. They lapsed into something like an impromptu staring contest before Stiles shocked him by saying plainly, “You’re pretty.”
It was so unexpected, it startled a sharp laugh out of the black haired man. “Oh. Uh, thanks, I think,” He replied, trying and failing to hide his reaction to the simple words. Derek's cheeks grew even pinker under Stiles' knowing smile.
“You like me calling you pretty?” Stiles said more so than asked, his lips shifting into something mischievous.
“I mean, I think everyone likes getting compliments.” Derek held his voice steady as Stiles inched closer to him.
“Yeah, but you really like it,” Stiles said, his hand reaching up to trace the pink flush on his neck. “Don’t you, pretty boy?”
“That’s– Stiles,” Derek groaned, half laughing and half hiding a shiver. “You really are being a menace tonight.”
Stiles suddenly crawled on top of him, ignoring the shocked call of his name from the boy now underneath him. Derek swallowed hard. “What are you–”
“Shh, just lay there and keep looking pretty.” Stiles said, leaning down to nose at Derek’s jaw. Then softer, sweeter, "Let me take care of you."
Derek obliged, primarily because his brain had seemingly stopped working about two minutes ago and he still hadn’t fully caught up with what was happening. He was brought sharply to the present by a soft bite on his collarbone, which then prompted his hands to come up and dig into the brunette’s hips instinctively.
“So sensitive,” Stiles said, sounding pleased.
“Stiles,” Derek said in reply, his voice already reduced to something breathy.
“Yeah, keep saying my name like that,” the brunette said as he kissed down further. And Derek continued to do as he was told, his mouth dropping soft sounds as he tracked the form of Stiles' body kissing down his open chest, his ribs, his stomach, his hips.
“Can I?” Stiles finally said, pulling at Derek’s pants.
When Derek fervently nodded, the other boy laughed.
“Cute,” he said, and Derek was in heaven. Stiles wasted no time ridding Derek of the rest of his clothes and settling back between his legs. He let out a little smile that made Derek self-conscious again before the brunette said, “You’re pretty here, too.”
Derek flooded red before offering up a “touch me” that sounded barely short of full on begging. And Stiles must not have been in the mood to tease because he took Derek gingerly in his mouth and began to suck.
Derek went lax under the pleasure. Stiles was attentive with his mouth in ways that many others weren’t, and he found his rhythm quickly. He wasn’t sloppy or overly enthusiastic; he just seemed to know Derek, to catch on quickly to every slight motion that made him gasp and keen. As Stiles bobbed his head further and further down, Derek closed his eyes from the pleasure.
He felt more than heard Stiles make a sound of disapproval.
“Keep watching," Stiles demanded when he pulled off, his throat raspy in a way that flooded Derek’s stomach with fire.
“I’m trying,” Derek said, gasping at the end of it as Stiles swallowed around him again. He fought for awhile to keep his eyes on the boy, noticing the way the brunette seemed to preen under the attention. But soon the pleasure grew too much again and Derek threw his head back on a long whine, arching as Stiles unexpectedly began to circle his other finger around Derek’s hole.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Stiles said, pulling off again. He made his way back up to Derek’s face again, taunting him with a smile. “You looked away again.”
“Stiles, I’m trying. My body is kind of working on impulse right now–”
Stiles cut him off with a sharp kiss. Derek groaned into it, pulling Stiles closer to him, running his hands over any open skin he could find.
When they broke apart for air, Stiles looked at him with a crooked half smile and a teasing glint in his eyes. “Don’t you want to be good, Derek?” Derek didn’t know when Stiles had gathered his arms into his hands, but he found them now pressed against the bed on either side of his head. There was no real weight to them, but Derek let the illusion go on, drunk a bit at the way Stiles' blown out eyes were raking across his body.
“C’mon baby, speak up.” Stiles said, leaning down to kiss a pattern into Derek’s heaving chest.
And that was new. Pet names fell from Derek’s lips much more easily. But the way they sounded on Stiles’ tongue was practically sinful. Derek covered up his whine with a cough.
“What was that?” Stiles laughed, knowingly.
“Yes, I want to be good.” Derek said, giving into whatever dynamic Stiles had set up. He felt too good to stop it now, even if he was going to be embarrassed once he pulled out of the lust.
“Good boy,” Stiles said and Derek couldn’t stop the way his stomach flipped and his hips bucked at the honorific. Stiles laughed.
“I should have known you’d be like this,” Stiles said. “Derek’s all big and bad as he walks around base, but the minute someone offers him the slightest praise he turns to jelly.”
Derek hummed, indignant, but stayed quiet, afraid Stiles would pull off of him otherwise. Stiles seemed pleased at this, so he continued his kisses back down Derek’s body, stopping at the end to say, “Now keep being good and watch me while I make you cum.”
The strangled noise that came from his clenched teeth would be another thing Derek could be embarrassed about later, but right now he had no time to think of it. Stiles went back to sucking him off and Derek sat up on his arms to listen to Stiles' instructions and watch. Stiles tapped his hips in some sort of Morse code approval then took him down further.
After awhile, Derek took to babbling; the words fell from his mouth in an uncontrollable rush. “Fuck, so good,” Derek gasped out. “Stiles, please.” He didn’t even know what he was begging for at this point: to finish, to keep going forever, to let him breathe for a second so he could get back in control of his rapidly beating heart.
Stiles looked up at him then, his eyes the picture of innocence if his mouth not been otherwise so indisposed. As they made eye contact Derek was flooded with another sharp burst of lust. Fuck. Stiles looked like a fallen angel, spit dripping down his chin and just teary-eyed enough to paint a picture of wickedness. Derek couldn’t stop himself from bucking into his throat.
All too soon he felt the white hot heat of impending release. “Gonna come–” Derek warned out between his teeth and when Stiles only took Derek down further he was done for. He finished on a groan, praises and expletives leaving in quick succession as he watched Stiles swallow him down with a smile. Derek collapsed backwards when he could hold himself up no longer.
“Thank you,” Derek said when he finally caught his breath. “That was– wow.” It was a stupid thing to say, but his brain wasn’t functioning enough to come up with something better. Stiles just laughed something light and twinkly.
“You like listening to directions a lot more here than you do elsewhere,” He teased, laughing when Derek’s face turned pink again.
“You were holding me hostage with a blowjob,“ Derek rolled his eyes. “What did you expect?”
“No, I think you just like listening to me,” Stiles shot back.
“I think I let you have some control there because I felt like you needed it.”
“Oh please, I called you pretty and good and you practically came right then and there.” Even hearing the words again made Derek’s stomach drop. He hoped he could hide the reaction, but he didn’t answer fast enough in their bantering, and Stiles' knowing smile caught him again.
“Why do you like it so much?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious. Derek hadn’t really thought about it enough to fully articulate it. He shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess it just makes me feel like I did something good for you, like I’m yours, like I made you happy.” It didn't quite cover the rush he got from the transferences of power, from being able to quiet his always active mind with simple instructions and soft praises. Stiles appeared startled by his explanation anyways, though Derek couldn’t imagine why. He wasn’t saying anything truly that shocking, at least not more so than he'd already told the boy. But Stiles seemed heavily affected, a serious look overtaking his face as he crawled back up to Derek and trapped him in a searing kiss.
Derek could taste himself still on Stiles' tongue, and something possessive flared up in him. He gripped Stiles' hips closer to him, pulling hard enough so he could feel Stiles hard on top of him. The brunette groaned at the friction.
“Let me do you,” Derek finally said, moving to pull off the rest of Stiles' clothes. Stiles nodded, now chasing his own pleasure.
“Your hands,” Stiles said against Derek’s lips. “Want your hands.”
So Derek took Stiles in hand and began stroking him gently. When the brunette groaned and dropped his head against Derek’s chest, Derek took the moment to flip their positions, crowding on top of Stiles and pressing him into the bed as he gasped again and again into his kisses.
Derek dropped his head to suck a hickey into his collarbone, pausing to whisper into Stiles' ear how good he looked, how good he sounded. “Louder,” he practically begged of him. Let the whole street hear how good Derek was making him feel. Let them know he was taken, that only Derek could make him feel so good. And Stiles, surprisingly, listened, letting filthy moans fall again and again as Derek stroked him faster. When Derek put two of his fingers up to Stiles' mouth, the brunette sucked them in eagerly and Derek felt his own dick twitch at the sight. After Stiles had his fun teasing the digits, he pulled his fingers back out, now glistening with spit, and brought it down to push at Stiles' hole. He nearly gasped himself as he slid the first one in easily and felt Stiles tighten around him.
The brunette groaned at the feeling, throwing his head back in pleasure as Derek now pumped his finger in time with the strokes of his cock.
“Big,” Stiles eventually choked out.
“What baby?” Derek said, still focusing his attention on the work of both his hands.
“Your hands. So much bigger than mine.” He was practically drooling now, his eyes incoherent with pleasure. Derek smiled.
“Yeah, they are. Bet it feels good, huh? One of my fingers feels like so much more. I wonder what two will feel like?” He mused casually as he slipped another finger in.
The brunette practically convulsed around him. “S’good.” He slurred, trying to fuck himself back on Derek’s hand.
Derek continued to pump both of his hands, watching every modicum of pleasure pass over Stiles' face. He could tell when he found that spot inside of Stiles because of the long whine that startled out of him. Precum leaked rapidly from his red tip.
Pretty.
“Right there?” Derek confirmed, just to see the fervent nod from the boy below him. Derek focused his attention to the spot, massaging it gently with his two fingers as Stiles turned even further into an incoherent mess.
“C’mon,” Derek said. “I know you wanna come for me, baby. Come on my fingers.”
Stiles gasped. “Yours–” he stuttered out, unable to finish.
“Mine,” Derek answered anyways. And Stiles practically looked in tears as he finally came, ropes of white flooding between Derek’s fingers.
Derek leaned down to kiss him through it, slipping his fingers out and swallowing down the soft cries and pants of the boy below him. He had felt good before, he always felt good with Stiles, but there was something about this, about seeing the brunette fall apart because of him, him, that was almost even better.
Derek finally grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to clean them both up, letting Stiles catch his breath. He quickly swiped them both clean before settling into Stiles' side.
“You know,” the brunette finally said, breaking the silence. “I let you have some of the control there because I felt like you needed it.” He offered a teasing smile as he mimicked their conversation earlier. Derek laughed, muttering up a quick, “yeah right”, before tackling Stiles into another kiss.
Eventually they stopped kissing and they settled into sleep, Derek crowding behind Stiles' body while the latter played with his hands. They were pressed skin to skin, both warm with the feeling of each other.
“Promise you’ll remember this,” Stiles said abruptly, right as they were about to drift off to sleep again.
“What?” Derek whispered.
“Promise you’ll remember how you feel about me. Right now, in this very moment.”
Derek couldn’t ascertain the emotions in the smaller boy’s voice. “I think it would be impossible forget how I feel about you.” He kissed Stiles' shoulder as a point of emphasis.
Stiles turned to face him for a moment, worry creasing his brows. He reached up to touch Derek’s face like it was something delicate and breakable.
“What’s wrong?” Derek said, his brows furrowing to match.
Immediately Stiles smoothed his features. “Nothing,” he said. “I just wish we could stay like this forever.”
If only.
Derek hummed his agreement. Unfortunately they had to be up for work the next day–this day, technically–so they soon tucked in. Derek waited until he heard Stiles' breaths even, then he fell into sleep of his own.
-
Stiles was hiding something from him.
Derek had been aware of if it for awhile, but now he was certain. It started the next morning. The pair had awoken tangled together, sharing a few moments of bliss and morning kisses until Derek reminded Stiles about work. The brunette immediately shot up to get ready, and even when he was showered and dressed, he paced the house looking for things to do. Derek had hoped for a slow, lazy morning– they didn’t have to be in until later, after all- but it seemed like that was out of the question. Derek eventually asked Stiles why he was so antsy, to which the brunette replied that Derek was imagining things. It was a stupid lie, so obviously untrue that Derek didn’t even really call him out for it.
Before he could figure out how to get the brunette to talk to him, Stiles practically pushed Derek out the door so he could run by the barracks to grab his jumpsuit. As he left he tried to give Stiles a kiss on the cheek, but the latter had already scurried away, mumbling under his breath about something he seemed to have forgotten.
The weird behavior continued in class. Stiles was uncharacteristically withdrawn during their drills. He blatantly ignored Derek like he used to in the early days of their Top Gun mission. He even called a few of the other recruits by the wrong name. It would have been unsettling if it wasn’t so confusing. Was this the same man that held onto him all night, that had begged him not to forget the depth of his feelings? What could possibly have changed over night?
Stiles still responded to his texts after work, but they were short and clipped responses, like Derek was texting someone on autopilot. After a few back and forths he was fed up with it, and when he finally asked Stiles to tell him what was wrong and why he was being so weird, Stiles just sent back a text about being tired.
Derek frowned. He knew Stiles wasn’t being upfront about something. The self-conscious part of his brain worried it was something Derek had done. He wracked his brain for everything he had said and done the night before to pinpoint what might have caused a problem. But before he could come up with a sufficient solution, his phone lit up again, only this time it was a text from Will. Derek opened the text confused.
Will: Hey man, have you talked to Stiles recently? He hasn’t been responding to my texts. Wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.
At that, Derek was ready to drive over to Stiles' again to confront him face-to-face about what was up. The way he was behaving had gone from slightly unsettling to full on worrisome. It's not just me, he realized. There was something much bigger happening. And Stiles was always so guarded over text; the only way Derek could truly read him was if he saw him in person. That protective voice was on repeat in his head: I need to make sure he’s okay. I need to make sure he’s okay. As he pulled on his shoes, he idly wondered when that voice had gotten so loud and persistent.
Isaac stopped him as he grabbed his keys; it was like the boy had a radar whenever Derek was planning on ditching to go see Stiles.
“Dude, two nights in a row? People are gonna start asking questions.”
Derek scoffed. “It’s fine. Just cover for me, say I’m going out with someone.”
“Derek,” Isaac said, disapprovingly. Derek would have shoved passed him if it weren’t for the genuinely concerned look on his face. Besides, he had put himself in front of the door, blocking Derek from avoiding him.
Isaac wrung his hands together. “Listen, I don’t want to be mean, man, but you gotta focus. Both of you. We’re too close to the end now.”
Derek settled his features in an attempt to assuage the concern on Isaac’s face. “Look, it’s nice that you’re worried, and I appreciate you looking out, but–”
“No, no buts.” Isaac cut him off firmly. “Unless he’s in some sort of life threatening danger right now, you have no business going over there.”
Maybe he is. The voice in his head shouted. “He’s being really weird. I just wanted to check up on him,” Derek said. The explanation had not done justice to convey the full extent of his worry, but he hoped the casual tone would work in his favor.
Isaac sighed, not looking convinced.
“We promised we’d always look out for each other, yeah?” He said.
Derek nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Like brothers.”
Isaac offered a soft smile at that. “Exactly. So I’m asking you, as your brother, not to go right now. This thing with Stiles isn’t going anywhere, but we’re about to leave for this mission and I need you to be 100% mentally focused.”
Derek had the sudden thought that maybe Isaac had that voice in his head, too, only about Derek. I need to make sure he’s okay. It was a welcome warm thought after the worry that had been coursing through him all day.
And, after all, Derek knew he was right. He didn’t want Isaac to be right, but he was. Part of Stiles' whole issue with their relationship in the first place came from worry that they were going to emotionally destabilize each other. Derek couldn't let that happen, if not for his sake, then for Stiles'.
“You’re right.” Derek finally relented. Isaac seemed genuinely shocked.
“Wow, that phrase doesn’t leave your mouth that often.”
“Shut up,” Derek shoved him lightly.
Before he could change his mind, Isaac grabbed Derek’s keys and hung them back up on the wall. He pulled him out into the hall.
“C’mon, Spirit and Rex taught everyone this new card game and it’s really fun.” At least if he wouldn’t let him see Stiles, Isaac seemed dead set on distracting him.
So Derek texted Will back with an “all good” and said he’d talk to Stiles tomorrow about why he wasn’t texting. Then he joined Isaac and the others in their common area which was bursting with noise and competition. He quickly found himself laughing as the impromptu game night descended into chaos. It was a welcome distraction from the voice in his head.
And even as he fell asleep that night, he felt lighter about everything. Tomorrow he’d talk to Stiles and make sure everything was alright. Whatever Stiles had been hiding, whatever weight he’d been refusing to share with Derek, tomorrow he’d tell him to lay it all on the table. They could get through it together. The die rolled in his hands as he fell asleep, and he slept soundly through the night knowing tomorrow would come and everything would be okay again.
-
Derek liked to think he had felt something unsettling in the air the minute he stepped foot out of the barracks that morning, but that would be a lie. No, he had woken up feeling good and refreshed and surprisingly hopeful about everything. The whole walk over to the classroom he had been invested in a good natured argument with Sam about if the U-dive or the Ferrier crawl was a better evasive move in an F-16. As they got to their seats, they were putting money on it now, talking about how they’d try it out to see who was right as soon as they got a chance. And Derek was so invested in his defense he didn’t hear the doors open at 0600 sharp. However, he did see the way the laughter fell immediately from Sam’s face, and the way he and the others immediately stood to attention, straighter than they might normally have. It wasn’t fear in their eyes, but it was something close. Derek’s body followed automatically, and once he was fully facing the front he saw what had sent his classmates into immediate silence.
The Admiral walked into the room, his eyes surveying the recruits with a severity that had them practically holding their breath. The sets of wrinkles in his face made him appear older than he actually was, but it also gave him an aura of wisdom and experience. They knew only a fraction of what he had seen in his time as Admiral and his climb to get there, but no one got to that position without facing death again and again, and somehow beating the odds.
Derek stared at him and realized he couldn’t even imagine what he would look like smiling. He was half convinced that the muscles in his weathered face couldn’t support that sort of frivolity.
The Admiral made the others around him look smaller, even though they walked just as confidently. Commander Rigley trailed to his right, a clipboard in hand and his face drawn up in what Derek now understood was a perpetual sneer. Condor also followed behind, looking solemn, but determined. He glanced at the recruits with a softened gaze, and Derek had the immediate feeling that he was trying to fill them up with some courage. Derek would have smiled at the thought if the Admiral had not frozen them all in their current state.
But it was Stiles- of course it was– who Derek’s eyes stuck on. He followed in the back of the others, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Derek nearly gasped out loud when he saw the state of him. He looked almost sick; the color had gone fully out of his skin, and his cheeks were sunken in. Something is really wrong. Derek knew it in his gut. He ached to say something, to find a way to pull Stiles aside right there and force him to go to a doctor or to get some sleep or to stop whatever it was that was making him appear so pallid and lifeless.
But the Admiral had not dismissed them from formation. So he did nothing but stare ahead, chest puffed out and body to attention.
“At ease,” the Admiral said finally. And the recruits may have sat down in their seats, but no one really relaxed. Their backs were as straight as if taped to a board. Not a sound went through them.
“I’ll be watching you today,” the Admiral said, “And then we will announce the team this afternoon. Your captains have offered their suggestions, but I have final say.”
No one moved, but Derek knew everyone’s stomachs had done a little flip. His surely had, but he ignored it the way he had been taught to.
Condor made his way to the front, then, ordering them into groups and organizing who would be going up first and second for their drills. They all moved to their designated spots wordlessly. Derek was up first, and he saw Isaac and Stiles climbing into planes beside him along with a few others down the pitch. The flight deck crew did their checks and moved them out one by one. Derek accelerated until he was airborne, not fully feeling like he had escaped the confines of the Admiral’s tight gaze until he was among the clouds. Here he was free, free to do the thing that he was best at.
Part of him worried for Stiles, whose pale and sunken face had not changed even as he strapped in. But he needn’t have worried. It seems even a sick Stiles could still fly circles around them all, and Derek would have gaped in awe at the sheer skill of the other if he hadn’t been so focused on not getting shot down in their drill.
If Stiles can do that, so can I. He thought, forcing himself to hyper-attention. As the drill ran, they all stayed within their boundaries; every recruit was now well-practiced with the expectations of the mission. Derek swerved and dodged shot after shot, he and Isaac working as a duo to take down many of the others. But it was much more difficult now; they had been trained well, and it showed.
They ran drill after drill, some in the air, some back at base. All the while, the Admiral watched with his hawk-like gaze. Every once in awhile he would mutter something to Rigley who stood fastidiously by his side, jotting down notes on his clipboard. Derek thought idly during a break that it was similar to the sports tryouts of his high school years. Of course, it was also wildly different, the stakes of today being much higher than if he would be on Varsity or JV.
Finally, the Admiral nodded at Condor, and he immediately called all of the recruits back together. They stood to attention in perfectly straight rows. Derek’s heart was pounding. Stiles still hadn’t looked once at him all day and he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that maybe Stiles was being so dismissive because he hadn’t recommended Derek for the final team. He couldn’t figure out what Stiles' reasoning would be, but it was the only thing that made his behavior over the last few days make sense. He snagged another look at the brunette only to see Stiles looking even more unwell than before. The boy had gone an almost green color, seemingly nauseous at the sight of all of them together.
“Alright Lieutenants,” the Admiral began, “Here’s the final team.”
He took Rigley’s clipboard and flipped the pages around. Every moment they sat in wait felt like an eternity.
Please say my name. Derek found himself praying. He had worked for years to get to this point, doing all that he could to be the best. Please say my name.
“Siren,” came the first name from the Admiral. The syllables rippled through them all, though they did not react. Not even Siren, whose only indication that she had heard was that she set her face even tighter, straightened her back even more. Derek wasn’t surprised, she was the best stealth flier of them all behind Stiles.
Please say my name.
“Rex,” the Admiral said. Another expected choice. Rex was the best shooter behind Isaac, and the duo had been able to take down all of the recruits at some point or another. And speaking of-
“Blackout.” The Admiral said. Derek let out a quiet breath at sound. Pride instantly filled him on his friend’s behalf. And even though he couldn’t turn to see him, he could feel the waves of excitement coming off of the short boy next to him.
Now all that was left–
Please say my name.
Please.
The Admiral looked at the clipboard again before looking up at the recruits. He didn’t look at any one of them, but seemed to stare through them.
Please.
“Black Wolf,” he finally said. “You’ll be the final member of the team. The rest of you will be on reserve, ready to step in at any moment in the event of the inability for the others to perform.”
It was almost unbelievable to watch his name fall out of the Admiral’s mouth. It took a second to sink in, but then the wave of emotions flooded in, even as his face and body remained unchanged. Pride, excitement, and the desire to prove himself rushed through him. Fear and nervousness also lurked there, too, but it was easy to push them away for now. He had actually done it. He had come to Top Gun and proven himself worthy to be on the main team.
As the Admiral turned to say something to the Captains, Derek quickly shifted to catch Isaac’s eye. The other boy looked at him with the same frenzied excitement as he felt.
We did it.
The sentiment passed between them quickly and wordlessly and they both quickly turned their gaze back towards the front. The Admiral followed suit, looking back at the rows of pilots in front of him.
“Now, it’s time that we talk about the full mission.”
He could almost feel the way everyone started listening even closer. The Admiral's voice held the promise of answers to the small questions that had lingered in the back of their heads for months. Why are we doing the mission in this way? Why does this mission feel so different than the others we’ve been a part of? What had they not been telling them? Derek was so keyed up from the excitement of making the team and now the prospect of finally getting answers to all his questions that he was thrumming with energy. He glanced at Stiles who still had yet to look at him.
We can talk about it tonight, Derek soothed himself. He briefly thought back to what he had overheard from Stiles weeks ago. "I said months ago that the mission wouldn’t work.”
Stiles just must be worried about him. Yeah, that had to be it. Once Derek explained that he had faith in their team and that he’d make sure it was a success, Stiles would relax. It would all be okay. Derek would have enough positivity for the both of them.
The Admiral cleared his throat before beginning, and Derek focused back in on the sound of his voice. “We told you that the target for the mission is a facility being built to house nuclear weaponry and testing. The mission was to take out their airfield, then circle back in the 25 mile radius to take out the facility. This is all true, and the main team of four will be accomplishing this goal. However, that part of the mission will largely be a decoy to hide the true nature of our involvement with this country.”
There was a slight rustling among the recruits, even though Derek could not pinpoint any one person moving. Being a decoy was not what they had expected the Admiral to say, and certainly not what they had trained for. Derek began to feel unsettled, though he couldn’t have fully articulated why. The Admiral continued,
“30 miles outside of their airfield is another facility, this one much more hidden and much harder to get to. It is essentially a warehouse of supercomputers that houses all of the black market data for the country. Every planned terrorist attack, every tapped phone, every laundered transaction, all of it, is stored and sent through these computers.”
Derek’s eyes shifted to Stiles and Condor, who looked stoically ahead, not meeting anyone’s gaze. They already knew this, it seemed.
“The problem is,” The Admiral said, “We don’t need this facility destroyed, we need access to the information.” His voice changed tone here, and Derek could hear something like hope and desperation on the fringes of his gruff speech. “Imagine if we knew the next planned assassination or coup weeks before it took place. We’d be ten steps ahead of anyone in the global circuit. We’d know everything.”
Ah, information. The only thing the military wanted just as much as weaponry. Derek had been on enough reconnaissance missions to understand that reality, the value of knowing something no one else did.
“We needed a way to get in, wire the information to ourselves, then get out without them knowing we had long term access to the data. Luckily our very own Captain Red here has helped code an elite program that can tap into the systems and give us remote access to their database. The only problem is it requires a pilot to be in the general area while the final code and sync up happens.”
Stiles had started to fidget at his name. Derek tried to keep track of everything new he was learning. He knew Stiles could code, but something like this? He added it to the docket of things that impressed him about the brunette.
“The main team’s job is to bomb the airfield to keep planes out of the sky as long as possible. Then, any that do make it up, it’s your job to take down. 30 miles away, Captain Red will be in the air around the computer facility. You make sure none of the planes make it to him for the whole 25 minutes you’re in play.”
Sam, ever the analytic, jumped in. “Do they not have any defense measures closer to the computer facility, sir?”
Stiles cut in to answer, drawing the attention away from the Admiral. “They do, but I’ll handle everything on that end. Your focus is to keep more fighter jets off of me.”
With this exchange, the atmosphere of the room changed. Derek did not feel as nervous about speaking up as he asked the expected followup. “But what are the defense measures?”
Stiles hesitated. Everyone saw it. Derek’s stomach churned in the unsettled air that his pause had created. The brunette hardly moved as he finally answered, “They have some long range missiles set to go off once they realize an unidentified aircraft is in the airspace. Too far inland and underground to take out.”
“What’s the ETA on the missiles?” Tina cut in. But no, Derek wanted to say. That was the wrong question. Or, at least, it wasn’t the full question.
“Intel shows they’ll make it to the airspace of the facility in about 12 minutes after the airspace has been breached.”
Derek cut back in, “And how long does the sync up take?” That was the part of the question that mattered. And Derek knew as soon as he spoke that Stiles had not wanted him to ask it.
Stiles' mouth hung open for a moment as if in reply, but nothing came out. It was Rigley whose voice cut in then, coupled with the shuffling of the papers on his clipboard as he searched for something. Derek noticed as everyone drew their gaze to the commander. His eyes, however, did not leave the brunette. “Reports show the fastest Red has run the drill is 14 minutes and 37 seconds.” Rigley said. Immediately, Stiles shot Rigley a death glare. A murmur broke out around the room, the recruits taking in this information in hushed, worried tones. Derek was uncharacteristically quiet as the murmurs flooded around him, unable to fully comprehend what he was hearing.
“So we know for sure the mission isn’t going to be successful?” Siren finally said what they were all now thinking.
Stiles immediately responded. “No, it will be successful. It only takes about 10 minutes for me to finish the code once I get close enough to the facility. After that, the black box of the plane just has to be in the area for the sync to finish.”
“So what does that mean?” Siren asked.
Derek knew. Derek knew what Stiles was saying, but he couldn’t comprehend it because Stiles couldn’t be saying it.
“It means I just have to keep the plane near the facility.” Stiles said.
“And when the missiles show up?” Rex this time. Derek was surprised he could even distinguish between his classmates cadences at this point. His ears were going foggy with the weight of what he knew was coming.
“I just have to dodge as long as I can.” Stiles said.
“Captain, you’re the best of us all at evasive maneuvers. But even you can’t outrun more than one or two long range missiles for that long.” That was Isaac. Isaac knew too. He knew what Stiles was saying.
“Well, then,” Stiles said, feigning nonchalance. “I make sure any hit keeps the plane in the allotted zone.”
Derek wasn’t sure if the rest of the room gasped or if he had made it up in his head. Everything was growing fuzzier.
“So it’s a suicide mission.” Derek didn’t know who said it. It might have been him. “You’re hoping to stay airborne as long as you can and then let the sync finish after you’ve been blown up.”
Stiles kept a cool demeanor. He had gone into an almost robotic stage of answering questions. “It will be a difficult mission on my end, yes. But there’s still a chance–”
“How much of a chance?” That voice was Derek for sure. Had his brain told his mouth to ask the question? Perhaps he was the one running on autopilot.
Stiles hesitated to respond again. Rigley shuffled some more papers before reading out, “Statistician we brought in gives it about an 40% chance of success. 11% chance of survival.”
The room fell into a painful hush.
“You’re– you– what are you even saying?” Derek could feel himself losing it. The fuzziness of realization was bleeding into blind rage. “Why are you– why do you–”
“Derek, breathe–” he felt a tug on his arm next to him, Isaac’s voice quiet in his ear. People were turning to look.
“I’m sorry we’ve withheld the information for so long, but it was a matter of security.” Stiles said. It was a professional way of saying I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn't enough.
Derek's rage grew. He couldn’t have even articulated exactly who he was mad at, but his voice came out in a yell nonetheless. “What the fuck kind of plan is this? How could anyone sign off on it? We’re not doing this. I cant believe any of you thought this was okay.” Derek said.
“You’re not here to question orders, Lieutenant.” Rigley’s voice cut through his red vision.
“Could you shut the fuck up for like two seconds. I wasn’t talking to you.” Derek snapped.
Another round of gasps went around the room. Stiles and Condor opened their mouths at the same time to scold him, both with firm "Derek-"s.
Derek cut them off before they could finish. “You expect us to follow you on a mission where your best plan is to blow yourself up?”
“Enough Lieutenant,” sliced through the air, the Admiral’s voice invoking silence again. Even Derek quieted– it was instinct at this point. But his body was still shaking with fury and something akin to betrayal. “I signed off on this,” the Admiral continued. “Captain Red has agreed. In case you’ve forgotten, this is what you signed up for, too. If you can’t handle it, get out.”
Derek would have been terrified of the severity of his tone normally. Now, he practically ignored the most powerful person in the room as he turned again to face Stiles.
“Stil- Captain,” Derek said, looking for a lifeline at this point. The quick rage was starting to burn out and was leaving behind only feelings of helplessness. Stiles looked at him earnestly, offering a despairing shrug of his shoulders. “This was always the plan, Derek. We’ve tried coming up with hundreds of others and none got us closer than this one. We really did try to find another way, believe me. And I’m sorry.”
He was sorry. He was sorry?
“Sorry for what? For spending months filling us with blind ideas of how we were going to succeed and knowing the whole time you were going to–” Derek couldn’t even finish. He was close to crying and he hated the way his voice was shaking.
“Get your recruits in order, Captains.” The Admiral said. Derek ignored him.
“Please,” Derek said, knowing the begging was out of place for what their relationship should have been. He didn’t care. “Please, tell me you’re not seriously going to do this.”
Derek could feel the eyes of everyone on him. He was being too transparent. There was more than distant fondness for a Captain leaking through the begging. He didn’t care. He didn’t care.
“I have to.” Stiles was resolute. "None of our other plans have worked. This is the only feasible option." Derek felt like those words, that tone, officially sent him spiraling out of control.
This is actually happening.
Derek felt his feet begin to move before he made the conscious decision to leave. His brain was shut off. He would not watch this.
“Where are you going?” Stiles asked.
“Do you really think I’m going to stick around to watch you kill yourself for no reason?”
“Derek–” Stiles began again.
“You walk out that door, you’re off the team and you’re out of Top Gun, you understand, boy?” The Admiral’s voice didn’t even phase him anymore. Derek kept walking, ignoring them all.
The last thing he heard was Stiles' voice saying “Derek” again before he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.
-
His first coherent thought was that he should go to his mom’s, but he couldn’t face her disappointment when he’d inevitably have to tell her he’d been kicked out of Top Gun. He thought about buying a plane ticket to Florida and going home. Isa could take his car and meet up with him later. Hell, why not just hop on the next greyhound and see where he ended up? No expectations. No stares of sympathy or disapproval. He could start over again.
No. They were all impossible options. He couldn’t run away from this. But he also couldn’t stay and watch.
Unsure of what to do, his feet blindly carried him to I-bar. There wasn’t anyone there at this hour, save for Scott who was wiping down some glasses to prep for the night shift.
“Sorry we’re not open ye–” the brown haired boy said before seeing Derek. “Oh, it’s just you.”
It only took Scott a few seconds to assess the state of Derek and realize something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, setting down the glass in his hands. Derek couldn’t speak. He shook his head. Immediately a panicked look came across Scott’s face.
“Is- is Isaac- is he-“ Scott stuttered out.
“He’s okay.” Derek said, his voice a whisper. Scott visibly relaxed. Derek briefly considered telling him that Isaac was on the final team, but couldn’t bring himself to drop that emotional bomb. Besides none of it mattered anymore. The recruits would all be fine. The real danger would be thirty miles away where Stiles would be–
The sobs started with a violence, wracking his entire body.
“Derek!” Scott hopped his way outside of the bar, where he quickly ushered Derek into a seat and rubbed at his shoulders. “You’re scaring me, dude. What’s– is it Stiles?”
At the sound of his name Derek only cried harder. He was gasping for breath now between shuddering sobs. If he was more in control he might have noticed himself slipping into a panic attack.
“Breathe, buddy, you gotta breathe.” He heard Scott’s voice as if through a filter, like Derek was on the other side of some thick glass.
In hindsight, there were so many signs. There had been, from the beginning.
Stiles avoiding his friends and family.
Him pushing Derek away again and again despite always wanting the contrary.
The glances. The odd looks that would pass across his face.
Derek had taken it all as hesitancy about their relationship. All of that would stop once they were done with their mission.
Well, he’d been right about that, a sick thought twisted into his head.
He was pulled out of his despair at the sound of Scott saying Stiles' name again.
“-I swear I’ll do it.”
“What?” Derek croaked.
“I said I’m about to call Stiles if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”
He won’t answer.
If he does, it won’t matter.
In two weeks you’ll never hear Stiles' voice again, phone or otherwise.
Derek thought he might be sick.
“No, don’t call him,” he said instead.
“Well what the hell has got you like this?” Derek finally looked at Scott to see his face flooded with concern. How could I ever tell him?
“I– nothing. I have to go.” Derek stood from the chair and walked away. It was a mistake to come here.
“Derek, tell me what’s going on.” Scott tried to stand in front of him. Derek thought about pushing past him, but had gained enough coherency to feel bad about the worry he’d caused.
“I think I got kicked out of Top Gun today.” He said. As if that covered it.
“Oh no,” Scott said, his face contorting into sympathy. “What happened? Was it because of Stiles?”
Derek balled his fists up as more tears flooded out.
Yes. Yes it was.
Derek barely remembered leaving the bar. He thought Scott sent him off with some words of comfort. He might have just stood up and left. It didn’t really matter in the end. Now he was at the beach, the one closest to the barracks. He could see the tinted building from the corner of his eye as he collapsed into the sand.
The waves ebbed around him, soaking his jumpsuit in patchwork patterns. It should have been uncomfortably cold. He didn’t feel anything.
“I wish more than anything we could have tomorrow, too”
“It’s all a lot messier than it seems.”
“I want to tell you. Everything. I just can’t.”
“I said months ago that the mission wouldn’t work.”
“What do I have to lose at this point?”
“This isn’t going to end well.”
God, how dumb could Derek have been? Stiles had known from the beginning, the beginning. And Derek had really let himself slip over the past few months. His intuition had told him again and again that something was wrong, but he had been too caught up in Stiles to care.
You were in love.
Were.
Are.
Fuck.
Another wave washed forward, this time a bit higher. Derek ignored it as he began to cry again. The grief, like the water around him, continued to come in waves. He’d cry for awhile, then a voice in his head would call him pathetic and he’d force himself together, then he’d go numb, then he’d be flooded with another memory of Stiles and boom: tears again. Over and over.
“This is stupid,” Derek finally said to the empty beach. There was no response. What could it have been anyways? It was a silly thing to say in the first place.
Some time later, Derek heard a figure walking in the sand behind him. He didn’t have the energy to turn and see who it was, but he did hurriedly swipe the tears off his face.
“Derek?”
Isaac.
It was a relief in the sense that he didn’t feel like he had to pull himself together. Derek ignored him as he approached.
“Oh, Derek,” Isaac said as he finally made his way to him. Derek knew he probably looked a wreck. Isaac crouched down next to him.
“We should get you inside, it’s cold out here.” Isaac said. Derek shook his head. There was no point.
Isaac seemed like he wanted to argue, but he let his mouth close. They sat in silence for awhile, the waves crashing around them. Derek could feel Isaac’s frustration at not having the right words to say. There are no right words, he might have told him. You should just go.
“I’m sorry,” Isaac finally said. “I’m– Derek, I’m so sorry.” It was hardly anything, and yet it sent another sob careening past Derek’s lips. He hung his head down.
Isaac practically collapsed on him then, wrapping Derek into a fierce hug.
Derek cried as Isaac held him, snot and tears dirtying up the shoulder he had been offered. And Isaac just sat with him through it all. They were both wet now, surely uncomfortable. Neither said anything about it.
“What happened after I left?” Derek finally asked minutes later when the wave of grief lessened enough for slight coherency.
Isaac hesitated. “It got– well, it was kind of awkwardly quiet for awhile. The Admiral didn’t even know what to do. I don’t think any one had ever walked out on him like that.”
Yeah, because it’s quite literally one of the stupidest things you can do, Derek thought. Isaac was a good enough friend not to mention that.
“And S–” Derek choked on his name.
Isaac tightened his arm where it was still slung over Derek’s shoulder. “He kind of just stared at where you had left for awhile until finally Captain Condor called us all back to our drills. He didn’t stay long, though. He left with the Admiral and that other Commander guy.”
Derek didn’t know why he had asked. Just picturing Stiles had started a fresh round of tears.
“Did they name someone else?” He said as he tried to pull himself together for the millionth time. In my place, Derek didn’t add.
“Not yet.”
They lapsed into silence for awhile until Isaac added, “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and pretend that 11% is good odds. But we’re gonna fight like hell to bring him home.”
Derek sighed. “Isa, he doesn’t even believe himself that it’ll work. He’s accepted it.”
“Well I haven’t.”
It wasn’t enough. Derek nodded anyways.
“C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here. And you must be hungry.” Isaac said.
On the contrary, Derek thought food might never taste good again.
“I’m just gonna be a little longer, you go on.”
Isaac stared at him hesitantly for a moment, but finally nodded.
“I love you, brother. Let me know if you need anything.”
Derek nodded again. With the sound of Isaac’s sandy steps retreating, Derek turned again to the ocean. He let himself fall back into the horrible feeling of grief, a feeling akin to being pulled deeper and deeper into the water toward certain drowning.
Derek should have known, though, that Isaac wouldn’t leave him alone for long. Ten minutes later Tina had made her way down.
“Isaac send you?” Derek asked, not looking her direction.
“I would have come anyways.”
She sat down next to him, inching her way closer until she could lay her head on Derek’s shoulder. They looked out at the water together.
“It’s not fair,” she said. “To either of you. I’m sorry you have to feel this way.”
“I was stupid to walk out. Not very Top Gun material, huh?” His voice was practically gone at this point.
“I don’t know. I think I would have done exactly the same if I had to watch someone I love do what Captain has to do.” Tina said softly.
Derek at least had enough last remaining wits about him to stutter out an, “Oh, um–how did you–uh, did Isaac tell you–?”
At that Tina let out a twinkling laugh. “Derek,” she said, eyes softened and cheeks flushed with the winter breeze. “We’re some of the top pilots in this country. We are literal masters of perception, sharper than the average citizen and trained to spot and react to minute visual changes. We’ve all known you two have been fooling around since like early November.”
“What?”
Tina laughed again. “Did you seriously think no one knew? Derek, you practically drool over him every day. Your face is like a lovesick puppy the minute he walks in the door.”
“We weren’t that obvious.” Derek said.
“Oh my god,” Tina chuckled. “You have no idea.”
Derek huffed out a breath along with her. It wasn’t quite a real laugh, but it was close. Derek had the startling realization that it felt good. He didn't know that could happen again.
“Why didn’t anyone say anything?” He finally asked.
Now Tina looked at him as if he really was dumb. “Why would any of us get you both in trouble like that? He’s our Captain and you’re our teammate. We stick by each other.”
Derek felt like crying again. He genuinely thought he might be out of tears and that was the only thing preventing it.
“Thank you.” Derek finally said. It didn’t quite cover what he meant, but Tina seemed to understand. She grabbed his hand.
“And we’re gonna keep sticking by you both, to the very end. You’re not alone.”
It was nice to be reminded. They sat quietly then, until Tina couldn’t take the cold anymore. She begged him to come inside, but Derek asked for a bit more time again. He’d come in soon. Tina frowned but went on her way.
But neither Tina nor Isaac seemed to be taking no for an answer, as they continued to send everyone down one-by-one to check on Derek and offer comfort incentives. Spirit came down next and brought him a dry sweatshirt. Jinx brought him a plate of food from dinner. Sam brought him a blanket and some water. On and on.
With each person Derek waited for the flood of annoyance he figured he’d feel. After all, his body was screaming for him to be alone, to drown back in the grief that was simmering right below the surface.
When Siren was leaving, Derek finally said, “I can’t believe you’re all being so nice to me.”
She scoffed. “You big idiot. Look around you. We’re a family. We’d do the same for anyone.”
Derek’s lips turned up in an attempt at a smile. As weak as it was, it also felt good.
“Now, can you please continue this inside so at the very least Isaac can stop having a heart attack that you’re going to do something dumb.”
Derek sighed. “If I go inside, I have to face everything.”
“You have to face it out here, too. Only difference coming inside is you’ll be sad and warm instead of sad and cold.”
The practicality of the response nearly startled a genuine laugh out of him. She was right, though. It was time to go.
He pulled himself up then, frowning as he realized how cold and numb his body was. Siren had already begun to walk back, letting him do this on his own.
One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d do it.
He carried himself back to the barracks slowly. Isaac had been waiting for him, perched by the window where he must have been checking on him. When he finally got in, Derek pulled the smaller boy into a tight hug. He did not feel any better and yet, somehow, he did.
-
In the shower Derek broke down in sobs again. He kept trying to force himself to picture it: to imagine a tomorrow where Stiles was not there. He hadn’t realized until this moment how wrapped up his life had become in Stiles'. Now he felt like he was without both. No future. No hope.
He tried to hide the breakdown so no one heard. He was probably unsuccessful. But he was less embarrassed about it now than he might have been.
As he pulled his stuff out of the shower, he avoided the mirror and his inevitable bloodshot eyes. Still wet, he crawled straight into his bed. He was hit with a startling wave of exhaustion and felt a fleeting glimpse of hope that sleep would bring him peace.
But, alas, even that would not, because in his Derek world standing before him was a perfectly concocted image of Stiles. His hair was fluffy- he might need it cut soon. He was drowning in a too big sweatshirt.
Cute.
His face was bunched up in concern.
“Oh, Derek.” The figure said, voice dripping with worry.
Don’t look so sad. Derek wanted to say. Let me make it better.
“Derek are you awake?”
No, no. I’m asleep. I’m never waking up again. It doesn’t hurt so bad from here.
“C’mon, sleepy, I need to talk to you.”
That response felt far too real. Derek blinked his eyes and everything came into focus.
“Stiles?” Derek slurred. “Are you– what are you–?”
“I needed to talk to you,” the definitely real figure said again at the foot of his bed. Immediately Derek’s gaze fell on Isaac’s bed, but it was empty. He looked at the clock. He had only been asleep an hour which meant–
“Isaac is still awake in the common area with the others. They’re giving us space.” Stiles answered him before he asked.
“They saw you come in?” Derek asked.
Stiles nodded and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much, now, does it? If they know.”
No, I suppose it doesn’t. Derek was kicked out of Top Gun and Stiles would be-
No.
Derek waited quietly, not knowing what to say.
“I wanted to check on you,” Stiles began. “That was–” he paused. “Well, I’m sorry about earlier. I've been sick about the whole thing for days. In hindsight, I should have warned you before class.”
You did, I just wasn’t listening.
“I wasn’t mad because you waited to tell me. I’m mad that you ever said ‘yes’ in the first place to a suicide mission.” Derek said.
“Derek–” Stiles sighed, running his hand through his unkempt hair. “Let’s not–”
“What? Let’s not what? Talk about it? Fight about it? Should we pretend like nothing’s happening? Here, why don’t you just crawl into bed with me. We can just go back to how we were two nights ago. Only this time, neither of us will be holding onto some key, damning information.” Derek’s voice twisted bitterly as he spoke, the anger from earlier coming back again. He realized he wasn’t just mad at the Admiral or the whole system. He was absolutely furious at Stiles.
He’s choosing to leave you. A voice in his head said.
“I’ve felt guilty about this whole time, Derek. I tried to keep us distanced, I really did. But,” he trailed off with a sigh.
“But what?”
“I don’t know, I couldn’t help it. I was in an awful position and you just kept making me feel better.”
That’s not enough. “Meanwhile I’m the idiot picturing a life together with you not knowing in a week’s time you know full well you’re leaving me.” Derek spat.
“I’m not leaving you to go find someone new.” Stiles countered, small flecks of irritation breaking into his voice.
“Yeah, I’m aware of what you’re doing. Sacrificing yourself for a flimsy cause at best so the most militarized nation on earth can have more military intel. Great job. Really smart.” Derek hardly recognized the bitter tone of his voice.
“I’m not happy about this either, believe it or not.” Stiles snapped.
“Then tell them ‘no’.” Derek said.
If you loved me, you would.
“If I tell them no they’ll just find someone else to take my place.”
“Fine, let it be someone else.”
“Derek.” Stiles said, his face a conflicting mixture of sympathy and disappointment. Derek knew objectively he wasn’t thinking straight. All selflessness had left his body and he was acting on instinct to protect himself. He’d say anything, do anything, to prevent Stiles from going.
But he couldn’t find the right words to make it happen. Neither said anything for a moment, so Stiles moved to sit down on the edge of Derek’s bed, looking across the room blankly.
“I already tried to tell them ‘no’, actually,” he said quietly. “I worked with intel to build the program and I knew deep down that no one would be able to use it like I could. But instead we gave it to a special ops team that tried to go in on the ground. All of them were killed in a bomb strike.”
He paused. Derek stopped feeling sorry for himself long enough to let the weight of what Stiles was saying sink in. Shit.
“Then we gave it to the Air Force. It wasn’t even close. Two F-22s blasted out of the sky. And two people–” he caught his breath, shuddering at a memory. “They all got shipped home in body bags to their families because I didn’t want to do what I knew I had to.”
He looked at Derek now, his eyes red with unshed tears. “I’m not letting anyone else die for me. And that’s what I’m doing this for. Not for more intel. Not for the Admiral. Not because I want to be the hero. I just have to do this. It can all stop with me.” His face screwed up in something like pain. “You just– I didn’t expect to meet you. I’ve been trying to distance myself from everyone all year, just to make it easier. But you just–” he half laughed, almost shocked with himself. “I just couldn’t with you.”
Derek tried to be understanding. He knew if he’d heard the story from anyone else he’d be overcome with respect at how brave the choice was. But if anything he was more worried now, more desperate for a solution other than the one Stiles was giving him.
Stiles continued. "We spent weeks last summer coming up with every possible simulation to try to make the mission more successful, but the program can only function under very specific circumstances." He sighed. "Anyways, once we got word from the statistician and they basically confirmed the outcome, they gave me some time off to visit my family one more time. I chickened out, went to Florida instead. I knew my dad would take one look at me and just know. And I couldn't see him like that."
Derek was met with the strangest combination of wanting to comfort the boy in front of him and wanting to scream at him for this choice. But then again, was it really a choice? Every new piece of information Stiles added to the story made things more complicated. Derek couldn't take much more, he felt himself starting to shatter again.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” Derek finally said when the room had been silent for too long.
“I want you to forgive me. I want you to come back tomorrow.”
“I’m kicked out of Top Gun.”
“The Admiral was reacting out of the heightened emotions of the moment. Condor and I can convince him to reconsider. He’ll be at the base early tomorrow morning and we can talk to him.”
“Do you really expect me to just go about my business as normal and have a front row seat to watching you die?”
“You’re their best flier. They need you.” Stiles paused. “I need you.”
Derek just shook his head. No way he was asking him to do this.
Stiles continued. “I know it’s not fair. I know it sucks. I know. I’ve spent half a year trying to imagine that this could be any other way. But if you’re the pilot that I know you are, you’ll do this with me.”
“Stiles,” he was practically shaking with renewed anger. Or perhaps it was grief. He hardly knew any more. “I love you. I think part of me has loved you from the day I met you. You can’t ask me to do this. I wouldn't make it.”
“Derek,” Stiles looked almost startled. Derek would have been self-conscious about the reaction if anything mattered anymore.
“Please, just stop.” Derek was suddenly unbearably tired. “I know my feelings are stronger than yours and I know I jump too fast into things, and I’m reckless and I can’t hold my tongue, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am. I can’t compartmentalize my emotions the same way as you. And it will kill me to watch you do this.” He said.
“You love me?” Stiles whispered as if he hadn’t heard anything past that. His face was unreadable now. Or maybe Derek just didn’t have the energy to decipher it anymore. He huffed, grabbing the dice from his bedside table and holding it out to Stiles.
“What is–?”
Derek nudged it into his hands. He suddenly felt like he had to get it all out of him, every thought, every memory of Stiles. Like maybe he wouldn’t feel so terrible if he could purge himself of this weight.
Stiles twirled the die between his hands. It took a few moments for the recognition to hit him. Derek watched it happen. “Is this– you kept this thing?”
Yes, it's stupid, right?
“Reminded me of you.” Derek said. I fall asleep each night thinking of you, and I wake up every day and my first thought is your name. I rarely dream, but when I do, it’s of you. He could have said it, should have said it. Instead he continued, “I play with it when I’m trying to relax. It makes me feel like I’m back in that bar, when we were both just normal people.”
Stiles softened. He continued to twirl the dice between his fingers.
“We weren’t normal people, then.” He said.
No. Derek thought. You already had a death sentence. And I was too stubborn to see the signs.
Stiles tried to hand the dice back.
“No, take it.” Derek said, physically recoiling from Stiles' outstretched hand. “I can’t–” he failed to articulate it, the sickness he’d feel from holding onto it again.
Stiles seemed to understand. He frowned, but slipped the little die into his pocket.
“It’s obviously trash.” Stiles had first said. Just stupid trash.
And yet, Derek’s chest felt tight at its absence. Why did it feel now like a lifeline?
“Derek,” Stiles' voice filled the air again. “Even if you don’t come back. Can we–” his hands reached out across the bed, closer to Derek’s own. Derek did not close the gap. “I know I was selfish for not telling you, for not pushing you away. But I don’t want us to end on a bad note. I need us to be okay, even if nothing else is. You’ve been the only thing getting me through this and I–”
He stopped, trying to push the words out. But Derek knew they couldn’t be forced.
“I need time, Stiles,” is what Derek said instead. “I need you to go.” He watched the hurt flash across the brunette’s face. But the boy quickly recovered, nodding.
It was a brutal ask: for more time. The one thing Stiles didn’t have. The one thing they both didn’t have.
Stiles stood up slowly from the bed, and turned to walk away. Derek didn’t stop him, though he moved slow enough that it would have been easy.
This might be the last time you see him. He thought. Kiss him, hug him, tell him you love him. Don’t let him walk out the door.
Derek didn’t move.
Stiles paused, though, right in the doorway.
“I need you to know, Derek, that it’s not just you. I–”
“Please, Stiles,” Derek said, cutting him off, his voice shaking. “Please just go.”
It’s easier if you hurt me by leaving and don’t try to make it better.
Stiles nodded as if he could read Derek's mind, his face flooded with grief. It may have mirrored Derek’s own. Or perhaps Derek was expressionless, lost to the numbness that now felt better than any emotion.
Derek closed his eyes and when he opened them, Stiles was gone. He was hollow again. The loneliness, even if nothing had changed, was suddenly agonizing again.
But as Derek tried to force himself back to sleep, an idea began to form. Call it self-preservation or a pilot’s instinct, but something Stiles had said would not leave his brain. A thought sparked, then another. It was only a half-formed plan by the time Derek drifted off, but it was something new to hold onto, and for now that was enough.